ANECDOTES
RELATIVE TO THE CAMPAIGN OF WATERLOO.
At a period of the battle, when the Duke was surrounded by his staff, it was evident they had become the object of the fire from a French battery. The shot fell fast around them. Their horses became restive, and Copenhagen himself (the Duke’s horse,) so fidgety, that the Duke became impatient, and having reasons for remaining on the spot, said, “Gentlemen, we are rather too close together: better divide a little.”
On one occasion Wellington rode up to Picton’s division, just as a hot fire of musketry opened upon the 92d. The staff expected every instant to see him drop, as he sat coolly watching the effect of the enemy’s fire: but he remained untouched;as did also lord Arthur Hill, who was the only officer that had accompanied him to the crest of the ground.
During the battle, a British artillery officer rode up to the duke of Wellington and said, “Your Grace, I have a distinct view of Napoleon, attended by his staff: my guns are well pointed in that direction, shall I open fire?” The Duke replied, “Certainly not, I will not allow it; it is not the business of commanders to fire upon each other.”
From this it is evident that circumstances alter cases, as may be seen by the following expression of the Duke: “I cannot discover the policy of not hitting one’s enemy as hard as one can, and in the most vulnerable place.” (Dispatches, vol. XI, page 547.)
Whilst the Duke was occupied intently in observing with his telescope a movement in the enemy’s line, some of their skirmishers were pressing on, and the musket-balls began to whistle round his Grace in such profusion, that colonel Gordon was induced to take the bridle of the Duke’s charger, and lead him forward to a hollow, where he was in shelter; and so intent was his Grace in observing the enemy, that it was accomplished without his noticing it. Throughout this long and trying day, the Duke was always to be seen where danger threatened, or difficulties arose, fearlessly passing from point to point, and constantly exposed to the fire of the enemy, protected doubtlessly by a merciful and all-wise Providence, to add still further lustre to his name by his continued services to his country.
During the heat of the battle, the Duke was about to pass in front of a Nassau square, the troops composing which had served Napoleon, when several of his staff requested his Grace to pass by its rear: had he rode along the front, the simple process of pulling a single trigger might have blasted all our expectations, and injured the cause of Europe more than did the whole efforts of Napoleon and his army.
The arms, clothing, and general bearing of the Nassau-men were truly French: their splendid rifle-green uniform, broadbuff cross-belts, handsome white cased cap and tall black plume, produced a martial and imposing appearance.
A hussar and a cuirassier had got entangled in themêlée, and met in the plain, in full view of our line; the hussar was without a cap, and bleeding from a wound in the head, but that did not hinder him from attacking his steel-clad adversary. He soon proved that the strength of cavalry consist in good horsemanship, and the skilful use of the sword, and not in being clad in heavy defensive armour. The superiority of the hussar was visible the moment the swords crossed: after a few wheels a tremendous facer made the Frenchman reel in his saddle, and all his attempts to escape his more active foe became unavailing; a second blow stretched him on the ground, amidst the cheers of the light horseman’s comrades, the 3d German hussars, who were ardent spectators of the combat.
During the cavalry charges, a man, named Gilmore, of captain Elphinstone’s troop, and belonging to my regiment, was lying under his wounded grey horse, about two hundred yards in our front. The cuirassiers were advancing; and as I was aware they spared none who fell into their hands, I sprang from my saddle, soon reached the spot, and seizing the bridle raised the horse’s head; when the animal making a struggle, Gilmore was enabled to extricate himself, and to reach our line just before the enemy’s cavalry came up. The pleasure I felt on this occasion will be understood by any one who has had the opportunity of saving life.—Two other human beings, one, a lad, David Bale, at Clapham, in Surrey; another, a boy, named Tannis, in the village of Mont-St.-Jean, I was providentially enabled to rescue from drowning.
I witnessed an encounter during the battle, between an artillery-man and a cuirassier: the former was under his gun; the latter dodging round, endeavouring to run his sword through him. At length the cuirassier’s horse was shot, and the gunner, getting from his place of shelter, dealt a blow with his ramrod upon the head of his antagonist, which felled him to the ground: he then seized upon the cuirassier’s sword,and collaring him, proceeded towards the rear. On passing us, the gunner gave his prisoner a kick on the hind part of his person, saying, “Be off to the rear.”
On the morning of the 18th, colonel Ellis, of the 23d Royal Welsh fuzileers, issued an order that no man was to fall out of the ranks to assist the wounded. Upon the colonel being severely wounded, captain Brown ordered two men to follow and assist him to the rear; but the gallant colonel declined their services, observing, “There are not too many bayonets in the Royal Welsh, return to your post.” This strict adherence to discipline, and disinterestedness, no doubt cost him his life, and deprived the service of one of its brightest ornaments. (SeeDispatches, vol. XII, p. 610-611.)
The day before the battle of Waterloo, captain Elphinstone, of the 7th hussars, was grievously wounded and taken prisoner. His condition was noticed by Napoleon, who immediately sent one of his surgeons to dress his wounds; and perceiving that, from loss of blood, Elphinstone had swooned away, he sent a silver goblet full of wine from his own store. On the arrival of the Bellerophon in England, lord Keith presented his grateful thanks to Napoleon, for having saved the life of his nephew.
On the 29th of May, (prior to the battle,) we had a grand review of the cavalry and horse artillery. After the review most of the superior officers breakfasted with lord Uxbridge, at Ninove. Old Blücher was amongst them, and openly declared, he had not given the world credit for containing so many fine men as he had seen that day. Our infantry, although not such fine-looking fellows, still bore away the foremost laurels of the day of battle. On parting, Blücher wished all a good day, exclaiming, “We shall soon meet again in Paris.”
In 1818, Blücher was one of a large party at Berlin, where much merriment and jesting went on from the proposal and solution of enigmas. Blücher at once absorbed the attentionof all the guests, by saying, “I will do what none of you can, I will kiss my own head;” and while all were wondering how that was to be done, the old man added with the utmost assurance, “This is the way;” when rising, he approached his friend Gneisenau, whom he kissed and embraced most heartily.
Blücher, when at dinner with the ministers of several different states of Europe, gave as a toast, “May the diplomatists not again spoil with their pens, that which the armies have with so much cost won with their swords!”
Happening to meet the Prussian minister, prince Hardenberg, he thus boldly addressed him, “I only wish I had you gentlemen of the pen, exposed for once to a pretty smart skirmishing fire, that you might learn what it is when the soldier is obliged to repair with his life’s blood the errors which you so thoughtlessly commit on paper.”
The following fact shows that no personal considerations restrained him from indulging in his splenetic humour against the great diplomatist of the day:
Nearly everybody knows that, immediately after the convention of Paris, Blücher was desirous to destroy the bridge of Jena, and that he would undoubtedly have carried his intentions into effect, had it not been for the urgent representations of the duke of Wellington.
On that occasion, count von der Golz, formerly his aide-de-camp, and then Prussian ambassador in Paris, made a written application to him in behalf and in the name of prince Talleyrand, beseeching the preservation of the bridge. Blücher replied in his own hand-writing, “I have resolved upon blowing up the bridge, and I cannot conceal from your Excellency how much pleasure it would afford me, if Monsieur de Talleyrand would previously station himself upon it; and I beg you will make my wish known to him.”
When Blücher was at Oxford, in 1814, with the emperors and kings, the Prince Regent and the duke of Wellington, he received an intimation that the heads of the University intended to confer upon him the dignity of a Doctor. Blücher, who never dreamed of becoming one of the learned, could notrefrain from laughter, and jocularly remarked, “Well, if I am to be a doctor, they cannot do less than make Gneisenau an apothecary: for we both work together; and it is he who has to make up the pills, which I am in the habit of administering[110].”
On the 15th of June, 1815, the French general Bourmont, colonels Clouet and Villoutreys, with three captains, deserted Napoleon, and came over to the Prussians. When Bourmont was presented to Blücher, the latter could not refrain from evincing his contempt for the faithless soldier. Some officers tried to impress him more favourably towards the general, by directing his attention to the white cockade which he wore in a conspicuous fashion: the Prince bluntly remarked, “It matters not what a man sticks in his hat for a mark; a mean-spirited scoundrel always remains the same.”
In a private letter from Blücher to sir Hudson Lowe, written many months anterior to Bonaparte’s quitting Elba, after disavowing all desire for future triumphs, he expressed a hope, that if again called upon to act, it might be in conjunction with the general and army that had immortalized themselves in the Peninsula, when Wellington and himself would go hand in hand to victory. It was truly a prophetic epistle.
“It has always occurred to me, however,” says the Duke, (upon the battle of Leipsick,) “that if Bonaparte had not placed himself in a position that every other officer would have avoided[111], and had not remained in it longer than was consistent with any notions of prudence, he would have retired in such a state, that the allies could not have ventured to approach the Rhine.” (Dispatches, vol. XI, page 435.)
It is always interesting to know what estimate great commandershave formed of one another. During the Peninsular campaign, marshal Marmont, with about sixty thousand men, approached Wellington’s position at Fuente-Guinaldo, when the iron Duke’s force did not exceed two thousand five hundred horse, and two weak divisions of infantry. Still he exhibited the same coolness and imperturbable self-possession, which, in emergency, invariably marked his distinguished and successful career. On this occasion, the Spanish general Alava, whose enlightened patriotism and high military qualities had endeared him to the Duke, thus accosted him, “Here you are with a couple of weak divisions in front of the whole French army; and you seem quite at your ease! Why, it is enough to put any man in a fever!”—“I have done according to the very best of my judgment all that can be done,” was the characteristic reply of the British commander, “and therefore I care not either for the enemy in front, or for anything which they may say at home.”
Upon Marmont’s being informed, that, for thirty-six hours, Wellington, with about fourteen thousand men, had lain within cannon range of him, his astonishment was unbounded; and he is said to have exclaimed, that, “Brilliant as was Napoleon’s star, Wellington’s was more brilliant still.” Marshal Marmont’s discrimination was amply proved at Waterloo.
Lieutenant-colonel Ponsonby, of the 12th light dragoons, gives the following account of himself on being wounded. He says,
“In themêlée(thick of the fight) I was almost instantly disabled in both my arms, losing first my sword, and then my rein; and, followed by a few of my men who were presently cut down, no quarter being asked or given, I was carried along by my horse, till, receiving a blow from a sabre, I fell senseless on my face to the ground. Recovering, I raised myself a little to look round, being at that time in a condition to get up and run away, when a lancer passing by, cried out, ‘Tu n’es pas mort, coquin!’ and struck his lance through my back. My head dropped, the blood gushed into my mouth, a difficulty of breathing came on, and I thought all was over. Not long after, a skirmisher stopped to plunderme, threatening my life: I directed him to a small side-pocket, in which he found three dollars, all I had; but he continued to threaten, tearing open my waistcoat, and leaving me in a very uneasy posture.
“But he was no sooner gone, than an officer bringing up some troops, and happening to halt where I lay, stooped down, and addressing me, said, he feared I was badly wounded. I answered that I was, and expressed a wish to be moved to the rear. He said it was against orders, to remove even their own men; but that, if they gained the day, (and he understood that the duke of Wellington was killed, and that six of our battalions had surrendered,) every attention in his power should be shown me. I complained of thirst, and he held his brandy bottle to my lips, directing one of his soldiers to lay me straight on my side, and place a knapsack under my head: they then passed on into action, soon perhaps to want, though not to receive, the same assistance; and I shall never know to whose generosity I was indebted, as I believe, for my life.
“By and by, another skirmisher came up, a fine young man, full of ardour, loading and firing: he knelt down and fired over me many times, conversing with me very gaily all the while: at last he ran off, saying, ‘Vous serez bien aise d’apprendre que nous allons nous retirer. Bonjour, mon ami.’ (‘You will be pleased to learn that we are going to fall back. Good day, my friend.’) It was dusk, when two squadrons of Prussian cavalry crossed the valley in full trot, lifting me from the ground, and tumbling me about cruelly.
“The battle was now over, and the groans of the wounded all around me, became more and more audible: I thought the night never would end. About this time, I found a soldier lying across my legs, and his weight, his convulsive motions, his noises, and the air issuing through a wound in his side, distressed me greatly; the last circumstance most of all, as I had a wound of the same nature myself. It was not a dark night, and the Prussians were wandering about to plunder: many of them stopped to look at me as they passed; at last one of them stopped to examine me: I told him that I was a British officer, and had been already plundered. He did not however desist, and pulled me about roughly.
“An hour before midnight, I saw a man in an English uniform, coming towards me; he was, I suspected, on the same errand. I spoke instantly, telling him who I was: he belonged to the 40th, and had missed his regiment. He released me from the dying soldier, took up a sword, and stood over me as sentinel. Day broke, and at six o’clock in the morning a messenger was sent to Hervé: a cart came for me, and I was conveyed to the village of Waterloo, and laid in the bed, as I afterwards understood, from which Gordon had but just before been carried out. I had received seven wounds; a surgeon slept in my room, and I was saved by excessive bleeding.”
Related by an officer.
... “Early on the following morning, the survivors arose and hurried out to seek, amidst the dying and the dead, those comrades and friends of whose fate they were as yet ignorant[112]. But even earlier still had the wretches who hang on the skirts of every army, for the purpose of rifling the new-made corpse, been at work: the watches and purses of many were already gone; while many a brave heart, still throbbing, had received itscoup de grâcefrom the hands of these merciless plunderers.
“Waterloo was won; the sun set upon a scene of slaughter, and the stillness of death succeeded the roar of battle. The thunder of five hundred cannons, the roll of musketry, the shock of mail-clad horsemen, the Highland slogan, the Irish huzza, were heard no more; and the moon gleamed coldly on a field of death, whose silence was only broken by the groans of the wounded, as they lay in helpless wretchedness beside their dead companions.
“While many a sufferer listened to every sound in anxious expectation of relief, a dropping fire was occasionally heard in the direction of Genappe, announcing that the broken army of Napoleon was fiercely followed by its conquerors.
“Wearied by the unparalleled exertions of the tremendous day of Waterloo, the British pursuit gradually relaxed, and the light cavalry halted on the right of the road to Quatre-Bras; but the Prussians, less fatigued, continued to harass the flying enemy, and the mingled mass of fugitives were forced from every village where they had attempted to form bivacs. A barrier was hastily thrown across the entrance of Genappe, to arrest the progress of thejägersand hussars that hung upon the rear of the guard; but it was blown down by a few discharges of a howitzer, and the French were driven from the town. Throughout the disastrous night not a moment of repose was granted to the terror-stricken. To attempt anything like serious resistance to their pursuers, where all were inextricably confused, was absurd. Officers and soldiers were mobbed together; discipline had ended: none attempted to direct, where none were found to obey; and with unrelenting fury the Prussian cavalry sabred the exhausted fugitives, till, after passing Gosselies and Charleroi, the wreck of Napoleon’s army found a temporary shelter beneath the walls of Philippeville.
“That night, the British bivac was on the same ridge which their beaten enemy had occupied on the preceding one; and as I lay upon the ground, I heard at times, and at no great distance from me, the voices of my more fortunate companions who had escaped from the slaughter, and some were roaming over the field in search of plunder. Momentarily, I expected that a friendly straggler would pass by. I must have been for a considerable period insensible; for the place where I fell, although the theatre of the final struggle between the relics of Ney’s columns and the British guards, was now totally deserted by the living, and cumbered only with the dying and the dead.
“I seemed as if awakening from a dream: a difficulty of respiration painfully annoyed me, and I endeavoured to rise; but a weight, too mighty to be removed, pressed me to theearth. My sight was imperfect, my eyelids felt closed. I disengaged my left hand, and raising it to my face, found that a mask of congealed blood covered it. I rubbed it away, and, prepared as I was for a sanguinary spectacle by the continuous moanings of wounded men and dying horses, I closed my eyes in horror, when the clear cold moonlight revealed the sickening scene.
“Directly over me, and in the very attitude in which he had groaned his last, an officer of the old guard was stretched: our faces were nearly touching, and his open eyes had fixed their glassy stare on mine. A sword-cut had divided his upper lip, and, exposing the teeth, gave to the dead man’s countenance a grin so horrible and ghastly, that I who had witnessed death in every form, was glad to avert my eyes. I made a desperate effort to shake him off; but a horse’s neck rested on my legs, and my feeble exertions were quite unequal to rid me of this double load.
“While suffering great inconvenience of position, I felt the cold intense, and thirst intolerable. No relief was attainable; the groans of the dying were unheard, and I sullenly submitted to my fate. But morning must soon break, and then probably I should be succoured. Could I but disengage myself from the dead man who pressed me almost to suffocation, I might endure pain, cold, and thirst. I made another effort, it failed; and, in despair, I laid my head upon the ground, moistened with my own blood and that of my departed enemy. Just then a voice immediately beside me, uttered a feeble supplication for some water. I turned my head, and saw a young ensign, whose leg had been shattered by the wheels of a gun, raise himself upon his elbow, and look across the field, in hope of discovering some one who would relieve him. Nor were his cries unheard: a man dressed in the dark uniform of a Prussianjäger, and armed with the short sword which rifle-troops carry, approached the sufferer; but, alas! he was not on the errand of mercy. Seizing the wounded man rudely, and deaf to his entreaties, he commenced his work of plunder. I heard the chinking of a purse, and a trinket, a watch, or locket, glittered in the moonlight, as he tore it from the bosom of the prostrate ensign.
“Oh! no, no, I cannot, will not part with that!” a low weak voice muttered; “it was my mother’s dying gift: I will never part with it!” A struggle ensued, but it was a short one: the ruffian, irritated at resistance, raised himself, and with a home-thrust silenced the poor youth for ever. Great God! that such a scene of death should be increased by the hand of murder!
“I grew sick; I feared to breathe: my death was to be the next, for he had quickly plundered the body of his victim, and turned to the dead guardsman who lay across my breast. Suddenly he stopped, listened, and gazed suspiciously around; then sank down behind, and stretched himself upon the field.
“My heart beat again. Two men came forward, and they too were plundering. But surely, all could not be so ruthless as the crouching wretch beside me! Nearer and nearer they approached; and, sounds of joy! they conversed in my native tongue. I listened with exquisite delight, and never did human voices appear so sweet as theirs. They were grenadiers of the line, and one of them wore a sergeant’s stripes. Without a moment’s hesitation I addressed them; and an appeal in their native language was not disregarded, I was promptly answered in kindly tones; and while one caught the defunct Frenchman by the collar and flung him aside, his comrade extricated my legs from the dead charger, and assisted me to rise up.
“I found myself in the centre of a heap of corpses; to take a second step without treading on a body was impossible; yet I scarce regarded the scene of slaughter: my eyes were riveted upon one corpse, that of the poor lad whom the crouchingjägerhad so brutally murdered.
“I stood up with difficulty; a faintness overpowered me: I staggered, and would have fallen, but the sergeant supported me, while his comrade held a canteen to my mouth. It contained brandy diluted with water, and, to one parched as I was, the draught was exquisitely grateful. My deliverers appeared anxious to move off, either to obtain fresh plunder, or secure that already acquired; and which, to judge from the size of their havresacs, must have been considerable. I begged them to assist me from the field; but they declinedit, alleging that they must rejoin their regiment before day-break. At this moment my eyes encountered those of thejäger, who lay as motionless behind the dead horse as any of the corpses that surrounded him. If I remained, (and I could not walk without support,) the chances were immense that the villain would speedily remove one who had witnessed a deed of robbery and murder, and I made a fresh appeal to my worthy countrymen:
“Sergeant, I will reward you handsomely: do not desert me.”
“I cannot remain longer, sir: morning is breaking, and you will soon have relief enough,” was the reply.
“It will never reach me: there is one within three paces, who will not permit me to look upon another sun.”
“Both soldiers started.
“What do you mean?” exclaimed the sergeant eagerly.
“Mark you that Prussian sharp-shooter who skulks behind the horse?”
“What of him?” asked the grenadier.
“Yonder dead officer supplicated assistance from that scoundrel, and he answered him with curses, and commenced plundering him directly. I saw him take a purse, and tear away his epaulette. Some other article the poor fellow feebly attempted to retain; and the villain, before my eyes, stabbed him to the heart. Hearing your approach, he hid himself behind that charger: need I add, that there he lies until you leave this spot, and that I shall most probably be his next victim?”
“You shall not, by Heaven!” exclaimed the sergeant, as he drew his sword and stepped over the dead horse. The Prussian, who had no doubt watched the conference attentively, sprang upon his feet on the first movement of the grenadier; but his fate was sealed: before the sergeant’s comrade could unsheath his bayonet, thejägerwas cut down, and the murderer rolled in the agonies of death beside the unfortunate youth whom but a few minutes before he had so ruthlessly slaughtered.
“The corpse was speedily plundered by the grenadiers, and the spoil of the rifleman, when united to their booty, made, as I suspect, a valuable addition.
“The moonlight was now yielding to the grey tint of early day, and the chief cause of my apprehensions being removed by thejäger’sdeath, I found leisure to scrutinize my deliverers.
“The first was a very powerful and athletic man, whose years might be set down at forty: his vigorous frame was perfectly unbroken, and his look bespoke a daring and unhesitating resolution. Indeed, his whole appearance was much above his rank; he seemed a war-worn, dissipated soldier: to him a field of battle was no novelty; and the perfectnonchalancewith which he dispatched the Prussian, betrayed a recklessness regarding human life, rather befitting a bandit than a soldier.
“His companion, a very young man, was a fine strapping flanker, and in everything appeared to be wholly governed by the will of his comrade. He touched the dead, I thought, with some repugnance, and seemed of gentler heart and milkier disposition than might be expected in a midnight plunderer upon a battle field.
“See, the dawn breaks rapidly,” said the non-commissioned officer to the young grenadier: “we must be off, Macmanus.... We leave you safe, sir; yonder black sharp-shooter will never draw another trigger. Pick up a musket for the gentleman; we must not leave him without the means of keeping stragglers at a distance, should any come prowling here, before the fatigue-parties arrive to carry off the wounded. Here, sir, take another pull at the brandy-flask; nothing keeps up a sinking heart so well.”
“Thanks, my kind fellow, I owe you my life. Had you left me to yon black scoundrel, he would have served me as he did our comrade there. What are your names, your regiment? I shall take care to report your timely services to....”
The elder of the grenadiers laughed: “You are but a young soldier, sir, and this, as I suspect, your first field. I know you mean us kindly, but silence is the best service you can render us. We should have been with the advance near Genappe, instead of collecting lost property upon the plains of Waterloo. Well, we fought hard enough yesterday to allow us a right to share what no one claims, beforethe Flemish clowns come here by cock-crow. Adieu!” As he spoke, his companion handed me a musket, after trying the barrel with a ramrod, and ascertaining from flint and pan that it was both loaded and serviceable.
“Enough; I ask no questions. But here are a few guineas.”
“Which we do not require,” said the sergeant. “We have made a good night’s work, and your money, young sir, we neither want, nor take. If we have rendered you service, it was for the sake of the old country. It is hard to shut one’s ears, when the first language that we lisped in from the cradle asks pity in the field. Farewell, sir; morning a comes on apace.”
“And yet,” I replied, “I might perhaps at some time serve you. You know the fable: the Mouse once cut a net, and saved a Lion. I am indeed but a young soldier: but should I be able to be serviceable at any future period, ask for J—— B——, and he will remember the night of Waterloo.”
“Of all the fields that ever were seen, Waterloo presented perhaps the most bloody. The small space over which the action had been fought, rendered the scene indeed appalling: masses of dead appearing as it were piled on each other.”
The field of Waterloo is twelve miles and a quarter from Brussels; Quatre-Bras, twenty-one; and Ligny, twenty-eight miles: notwithstanding the great difference in the distances of those places, the firing at Ligny and Quatre-Bras was more distinctly heard at Brussels on the 16th, than that of Waterloo on the 18th.
Our detached force at Hall, which is about nine miles from Waterloo, heard nothing of the firing, nor did they know until the following morning, (the 19th,) how busily we had been engaged.
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